


A Dream With You

by EggsEgghead



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Bloodlust, Canon-Typical Violence, Clothed Sex, Consensual Sex, Fear of Death, Friends to Lovers, Injury, Injury Recovery, M/M, Mild Gore, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Needles, Outdoor Sex, Rough Sex, Selectively Mute Hunter, Spit As Lube, Uh so I'll start off by saying this is a story about my hunter and my friend's hunter, lmao can't believe I actually finished this, tw needles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 12:46:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25849759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EggsEgghead/pseuds/EggsEgghead
Summary: When the light had faded and Elijah felt his feet materialize on solid ground, he found himself somewhere familiar, yet unfamiliar at the same time. The Cathedral Ward, the church to his back, yet it wasn't his cathedral. He stood for a moment before the sweet scent of blood and moonlight drew his attention, causing him to turn towards the hunter that approached him from behind.Griswold.
Relationships: The Hunter (Bloodborne)/Original Character(s)
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My friend and I have been playing Bloodborne together and we joked about our hunters being gay for each other.
> 
> It is no longer a joke.
> 
> UPDATE 8/21: I didn't forget about this the next chapter is in the works it's just. Going slowly.

The ringing of the bell had become a habit by now, Elijah desperate for company. Eileen had vanished, Alfred was mad, the only friendly face Elijah had was the Doll. But sometimes her servitude and eagerness to please made him upset. He had never asked for this lifestyle, this endless night. He felt ungrateful for all the Doll was doing to help when he wanted none of it.

He just needed to get away.

And so he rang the bell over and over, hoping it's chime would reach another so he could leave this dreary place and find another who shared in his woes. And, eventually, it did.

When the light had faded and he felt his feet materialize on solid ground, he found himself somewhere familiar, yet unfamiliar at the same time. The Cathedral Ward, the church to his back, yet it wasn't _his_ cathedral. He stood for a moment before the sweet scent of blood and moonlight drew his attention, causing him to turn towards the hunter that approached him from behind.

Griswold.

They had met before. Griswold had requested his aid a few times prior and they had fought side-by-side on several occasions. Elijah had to admit, he was fond of the man, as dark and mysterious as he seemed to be. The smell of blood always clung to him, followed him wherever he went. Any excuse to catch a whiff of that tantalizing scent without having to put in the effort was a good one. Mixed with the intense stare Elijah would catch from the other hunter's dark eyes, he couldn't help but feel drawn to the man. It was a shame Griswold didn't speak much. The most Elijah had heard of his voice were grunts of exertion and exhausted pants, noises from combat. There were rare occasions where he would hear the other man grumble to himself, cursing the sky and the beasts, but Griswold never spoke directly to Elijah. At least, not that he knew of. Their acquaintance was a relatively silent one but Elijah couldn't care less. He never spoke, regardless, preferring the use of his hands than his voice, though he was fully capable with both.

But Griswold approached Elijah with a calmness in his step, unusual for the often blood drunk hunter. They greeted one another, Griswold with a curt nod and Elijah with the wave of his hand and a flourish of the wrist, before Elijah eventually found himself following Griswold's lead through the cobblestone alleyways towards whatever great beast dared give him trouble.

The first surprise of the night came when Griswold never led Elijah to a terrifying beast. Instead, they hunted together through the streets of the Cathedral Ward, dispatching any and all who sought to trouble them. Once that was done and the night was quiet, they simply roamed. Elijah couldn't say he was disappointed, quite the contrary, actually. He had spent much of his own time walking the empty, blood soaked streets of Yharnam and watching the sky. He just hadn't expected Griswold to do the same. It made him wonder why, then, was he summoned in the first place? Of course, Elijah had been ringing his bell in the hopes that he would find company. Perhaps Griswold had been doing the same.

The two followed the grand staircase down to the open courtyard that now sat empty, thanks to their efforts. Elijah brushed a gloved hand over one of the tombstones as he passed, using the other to pull down the hood he always wore pulled over his head. Griswold turned to watch him. He had never seen Elijah with his hood down. The light of the moon reflected off of the dark waves of hair that framed the sides of his face and fell over his shoulders. How he had never noticed that long hair before, he wasn't sure, but he did now. And he liked it. He continued to watch Elijah move for a few more moments. His movements were careful and predictably nimble, he fought with a cane, he had to be precise and quick.

Elijah stopped at the edge of the cobble details of the courtyard and stared up to the dark sky, illuminated by the perfect sphere of the moon. How long had it been since he first arrived in Yharnam? Why had he come to begin with? Those were questions to which he had no answers but he asked them to himself every time he awoke in the Hunter's Dream, his body having faded to a puff of ash and rematerializing in the Dream. What he wouldn't give to finally end it all, to finally die and stay dead. The hunt was nothing more than a cruel nightmare, one that he couldn't wake up from, no matter how hard he tried.

His head turned when the sweetly metallic waft of blood that was Griswold drew close. The other hunter emerged at Elijah's side, masked face hiding all but his mismatched eyes, which were also turned up to the sky. Elijah held his eyes on Griswold for a moment, watching him scan the starless sky in silence, before he looked down at the ground before him.

"You don't talk much, do you?" Griswold's voice made Elijah jump. This was the first time he'd addressed him directly.

Elijah looked back to Griswold but said nothing. He looked at his hands, opened his mouth momentarily, as if he would let a few words free, before he raised his hands and started to sign. Griswold watched, not understanding what the motions meant.

"I'm just going to take that as a no."

Elijah swallowed hard. Griswold couldn't understand him. Up until now, his signing had never been a problem. But he so desperately wanted to communicate with Griswold. The thought of speaking made his stomach clench. He opened his mouth again and willed forth his voice.

"I can." Elijah's voice wavered and cracked from years of unuse. He couldn't remember the last time he had spoken.

Griswold blinked. He was genuinely surprised when he heard Elijah's voice. It was softer than he had anticipated but whether that was natural or from not having been used, he would never know. He figured he wouldn't be hearing much from him after this encounter, anyway.

"Then why sign?"

It was a question Elijah was asked often. The answer was long, he didn't care to tell the tale. He simply inclined a shoulder into a shrug in the hopes that the topic would be dropped.

Griswold should have expected that response but he had hoped for something more. Perhaps he was just curious about this hunter who had so readily come to his aid in an hour of need. Maybe he found comfort in this man, a comfort that Yharnam could never offer him. Whatever the reason, he was disappointed with the answer he had received but he didn't press the issue further.

The silence that followed carried an air of discomfort for Elijah. His mouth, his throat, tingled from the vibrations of his voice. He hated the feeling, it made him feel almost vulnerable. He ignored the unwelcome warmth as his eyes shifted to the side, following the motion of a shadow. His head turned sharply, Griswold noticing the sudden movement of Elijah's head and turning to see what was wrong. He watched Elijah flick his wrist, transforming his trick weapon of choice, as he kept his bright, tired eyes glued to the darkness.

It took a minute for Griswold to notice the movement in the shadows. His head followed the motion as it surrounded the two hunters and he hefted his Holy Blade off of his back, his hands bracing to support the weight. Elijah heard Griswold's now familiar grunt as he heard the metallic ring of the Holy Blade settle in Griswold's hands.

Elijah was the first to notice the glint of fangs and scraping of claws against the glistening cobblestones, and they were headed for Griswold. It was in a time like this when Elijah was most comfortable in his silence. Words could only do so much, his actions always spoke for him. As quickly as the beast reared its ugly head, leaping from the shadows with its gnarled claws positioned for Griswold's throat, Elijah held tight to his friend's collar and pulled him from the creature's path. They rolled to the side, to a safer position, as the beast skidded across the ground where they once stood.

The look Griswold gave Elijah was quick but there was a glimmer of appreciation in his eyes. Elijah gave him a nod and watched as Griswold charged forward, taking a wide stance and steadying himself as he cleaved his great sword down into the shoulder of the beast. Its howl filled the air, likely alerting anything nearby. If anything still stalked the streets, reinforcements would arrive soon enough.

Elijah was reluctantly drawn to the song of the blood as it's smell filled his nose. It was heavy, sweet in the sickest of ways. It enticed him to be rash. But unlike Griswold, his approach to combat was tactical. It had to be. Elijah rounded the creature to find an opening as Griswold followed up his first strike with a second, heavier one, throwing his body's weight forward with his blade. Elijah heard him snarl, a guttural, beastial sound that chilled him to his core. While Elijah fought against the blood, against the inevitable bloodlust all hunters find themselves falling into, Griswold embraced it. It made him fight harder, made his strikes stronger. What reason did he have to fight such a blessing?

When an opening presented itself, Elijah snapped into action. His whip closed the gap he had put between himself and the haunches of the beast, the serrated edges of the chain tearing through matted fur and flesh as the chain splattered the creature's blood across Elijah's face. The warmth of the blood was enough to edge him closer to a blood-induced frenzy, momentarily causing him to disregard his tactics as he moved in for a closer strike. He lunged forward, transforming his weapon and driving the sharp end of the cane down into the beast's back. The song grew louder in Elijah's ears, the blood calling to him in a yell rather than the usual whisper.

Griswold noticed the shift in Elijah's temperament despite his own blood fueled craze. It took him off guard. Elijah had always been staunchly resistant to the sway of the blood but now, for some reason, he buckled. Caved under its influence. In that moment of distraction, he failed to notice the beast's claw as it raked across his torso, sending fiery pillars of pain through his nerves as his own blood soaked his garb. But it wasn't himself he cared about. No, it was Elijah. The burning of pain only fueled his rage as he saw the beast reach back and grab Elijah in the same, bloodied claw that had just slashed across his chest.

The beast, Elijah now in hand, reared back and sent the smaller hunter sailing across the courtyard. Griswold heard the dull thud and harsh crack of bone as Elijah's descent from the air was cut short by his back slamming into one of the tombstones that decorated the courtyard. He heard the pained wheeze Elijah let out as, in that moment, he struggled to breathe. Griswold glanced back to find Elijah doubled over, an arm clutching his chest while he desperately dug through the pouch on his hip. He had blood vials. He would be fine. Griswold turned his attention forward again, intent on exacting revenge on behalf of his currently incapacitated friend.

But Elijah didn't stand. Fumbling through his pouch, he found nothing but vial after empty vial. Desperation settled itself in his mind as a moment of clarity forced him to think straight. His supply of blood vials had been used up. If he died here, he would be carried away back to his own Dream and his time with Griswold would end. If Griswold died here, the both of them would be sent back to their Dreams. He didn't want that. But the blood soon clouded his mind yet again. The pain he felt became a dull thrum as he weakly pushed himself to his feet. He wavered, struggling to steady himself, as he watched Griswold and the beast exchange blows. It was hardier than the others they had fought. With a hand still clutching to broken ribs and a punctured lung, his mouth full of nothing but a coppery heat that drove him mad, he raised his pistol and lined up a shot. Griswold faltered, the beast reeled back for a swipe, Elijah pulled the trigger.

The gunshot rang through the air, all but silencing the sound of combat. Griswold had prepared to shoulder the brunt of the next blow when he saw the beast wind up for the swipe. But the creature stumbled as Elijah's bullet sank into its chest, sending a spray of blood across Griswold's face. For a quick second, Griswold glanced back at Elijah. He watched as the pistol slipped from his grasp and he fell to his knees again, doubling over a small puddle of his own blood. Griswold turned forward again and took advantage of the break in the beast's defenses. He reached forward, gripping hard to its throat, partially clawed fingers sinking themselves into the creature's flesh, and he pulled. The shrill shriek the beast let out was cut short by Griswold tearing its throat out as his hand withdrew, a fist sized chunk of bleeding, pulsing flesh and stinking fur left in his palm. He watched the beast stumble before it fell at his feet.

Elijah watched this, too, through eyes that faded in and out of consciousness. He tried to stand, make his way to Griswold, but his legs wouldn't cooperate. He wheezed in another labored breath as he rolled onto his side, his ringing ears picking up the sound of Griswold's quick footsteps on the cobblestone as his eyes fell closed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It isn't much but I hated the way the story was progressing so I'm rewriting it. Here's something, though.

_Elijah felt the sun on his skin. Gods, how long had it been since he felt such kind warmth? He basked in it, bathed himself in the light of day as the sounds of home surrounded him._

_Home. A place so far away, all but a distant memory._

_But he was there. Had it finally ended? Was the nightmare finally, truly over?_

_The joy of feeling the sunlight distracted him from his attire. Heavy robes and armor. The pistol at his side. The cane. Surely, he had simply been left with these things as a sick reminder of what he had been forced to do. He was home, after all. Wasn't he?_

_As quickly as the warmth had blessed his skin, it vanished, replaced by the cold night air. The sunlight was replaced by pale moonlight, but he was still home. And he could smell it. Blood and smoke._

_Reluctantly, Elijah turned to face his small home village. The streets were empty, blood spilled onto the dirt roads. The buildings were ablaze in the night, the brightness and heat almost matching the sun that was suspended in the sky just moments before. Elijah could hear the terrified screams of his countrymen echo through the streets, though not a single person could be seen. As he took in the scene, slowly, he remembered what had happened. He remembered how he got to Yharnam. He remembered who he was._

_Though considered an outsider, Elijah's home hadn't been too far outside of Yharnam. It had been a quaint town, it's people lived happily in seclusion. But the proximity to Yharnam...accidents happen. Beasts escaped and found their way to this little town and, with them, hunters. The streets became a battleground and innocents were caught in the crossfire. The hunters set the town ablaze to smoke out every last rogue beast that may be hiding in it's dark corners and prevent new ones from spawning._

_Elijah remembered running, terrified, through the streets, away from the hunter that pursued him. He had been corralled into Yharnam, where he eventually lost his pursuer. Elijah had never intended to come to the city but, for whatever reason, he stayed. And on the night of the hunt, no less. And then he woke up in the clinic to find he had become one of the men who razed his hometown._

_Elijah watched the buildings burn, guilt driving a knife in his gut when he thought about how he had become the thing that had destroyed his life. But that guilt turned to remorse. Then anger. His anger wasn't directed at himself, but at his fate. He had never asked for this life yet it was thrown into his lap._

_"Elijah."_

_The voice that called to him was familiar. Elijah turned back towards Yharnam, towards the moon. Silhouetted against the moonlight was a familiar figure. Elijah stood and watched as they approached, their steps cautious._

_Griswold drew close. He reached out for Elijah, his hand finding his shoulder and resting there. Elijah stared up into Griswold's unmatching eyes, first the green one, then the blue. They were the only feature of his face he could see, but he felt kindness. Despite his horrible fate, he still had a friend._

_"Wake up."_


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow look at that I actually finished this.
> 
> Apologies for the delay, work and writer's block (and art block) have been kicking my ass 😔

Elijah awoke with a start, his eyes snapping open to be met with the dark sky. Slowly, he sat upright, a dull pain in his chest. He held onto the area as he pushed himself up, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt from the exertion. His chest didn't hurt as badly as it had before but now there was a faint soreness in his thigh.

He looked around to get a better understanding of his surroundings. To his right, tombstones and the large creature that stalked the Cathedral Ward. He stared up at the creature for a moment and felt something writhe deep within him. Elijah finally shuddered and looked away, turning so he could see behind him.

Griswold sat at the top of the staircase behind him, arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the wall of the church. His head was slumped forward, hat having fallen to the ground before him. Elijah could see his shoulders rising and falling heavily. His face was obscured by his long, dark hair, which draped over the front of his face. He didn't react when Elijah had turned to look at him and remained still as Elijah got up and approached, picking up his discarded robes and tunic on his way over.

Griswold only stirred when Elijah sat down beside him, the smaller man's shoulder bumping against his. He grunted and Elijah watched Griswold's head lift sleepily. His eyes scanned the small courtyard before his head turned towards Elijah. He grumbled quietly and brushed the hair out of his eyes, revealing those unmatched eyes that Elijah loved so much.

"You're up." It wasn't a question. Griswold looked Elijah over once before straightening his posture and leaning back more heavily against the church wall. "Feeling better?"

Elijah nodded.

"Good. You took a beating but I got some blood into you."

Elijah nodded again and his hands moved to sign before he stopped himself. Griswold couldn't understand. Instead, he looked down at the bundle of clothes in his lap. "Thanks…"

Griswold blinked at the sound of Elijah's voice. Though he had spoken once before, Griswold never expected him to speak again. He took a moment before offering a soft grunt and nod as a response. A long silence settled over the two. Griswold turned his head away to stare at the sky while Elijah twiddled his thumbs and watched his fingers. Inside the church, there was idle chatter that echoed out from time to time, mostly from the Dweller that oversaw the survivors.

Griswold eventually turned his attention back to Elijah, who was still looking down at his hands. He watched him for a moment before Elijah shifted under his stare and looked up. His brown eyes were bright in the moonlight and spoke volumes. Though the language of his hands was a mystery to him, Griswold had learned how to read his eyes for emotion. On the surface, he saw a nervousness he couldn't understand. But the longer he looked, the more he saw. Shyness, uncertainty, longing, even sadness. Griswold furrowed his brows as he tried to think what those emotions meant, tried to decipher what they were spelling out for him. Elijah noticed Griswold's change of expression and turned his head away before Griswold could finish reading him.

Elijah sighed heavily after a moment. "...Griswold."

"Mhm?"

"I-I…" Elijah swallowed hard around a lump in his throat before starting again. "I'm glad you're alright. You're…my only friend. I know that if things had gone wrong and you died, you would've just woken back up in the Dream but…I don't know…it doesn't make dying any less scary."

Griswold sat in silence and stared at Elijah. Friends were scarce in Yharnam, especially during the hunt, and even those who weren't hostile tended to be aloof. Frankly, Griswold could agree that Elijah may be the only actual friend he had here. Elijah's softness, his kindness, it was refreshing to see during this seemingly never-ending night. Griswold was impressed over Elijah's grasp of his humanity, but it also made him furious. Angry that someone like him had been dragged into a situation like this. Whatever had brought him to Yharnam, it couldn't have been his doing.

But much to Griswold's surprise, Elijah continued.

"When the hunting started I had wanted to die. Actually die. But…not so much anymore. Not now, at least. Because so long as you're still here, I have a reason to keep fighting on. I…don't want to see you hurt. And I want to see you make it out of this alive. As a man, not a beast." Elijah turned his gaze to Griswold again. The sadness that Griswold had read moments before was displayed front and center, both in Elijah's eyes and his expression. "I lost everything precious to me once. I don't want to lose you, too."

Not a single word came to Griswold's lips. He stared at Elijah for a while as he grasped for something, anything, to say. Of course, the feeling was mutual, but Griswold wasn't sure just how to put it into words. Instead, Griswold reached out and put an arm around Elijah's shoulders. He pulled him in close and Elijah settled comfortably against him. From the corners of his eyes, Griswold could see a faint smile on his lips and a look of contentment cross his face. Eventually, Griswold let his head fall to the side, resting on top of Elijah's. He sighed quietly.

"It's mutual, but I don't have to worry about you becoming a beast." Griswold mumbled, mostly to himself but he was still loud enough for Elijah to hear. "Just…don't break any more ribs."

Elijah laughed softly, then grunted from the faint pain that splintered through his chest. Griswold picked his head up and looked down at Elijah as he reached into a pocket of his jacket and pulled out a blood vial. He was quick to jab the needle into Elijah's thigh and empty the contents into him. Elijah sighed heavily as he felt the blood enter his system and the pain faded completely. He rubbed a hand against his thigh when Griswold pulled the needle out and dropped it aside.

"Better?"

Elijah nodded and turned his head up towards Griswold to address him. The two held their eyes on one another for a moment, but it felt longer. Not realizing what he was doing, Elijah started to reach up for Griswold, hesitating slightly before starting to withdraw his hand. Griswold noticed and caught his wrist, pulling his hand up to his face. He leaned heavily into Elijah's soft touch, sighing quietly as Elijah moved his fingers down his cheek. Griswold took the moment to read Elijah's face, finding a certain naivety and gentleness in his eyes. It brought a grin to his lips.

Elijah's eyes drifted to meet Griswold's and he noticed that the usual hardness that guarded him had dropped. The harsh hunter's facade had fallen away to make way for a kinder expression, the look of a man who was lonely. Elijah brushed aside some of Griswold's hair and tucked it away behind his ear, giving him a better view of Griswold's face. He looked Griswold over slowly, taking in the hardened features of his face, before opening his mouth as if to speak.

Griswold didn't give him the chance to. Instead, he closed the gap between them, pulling Elijah in closer for a kiss. Though a surprise, Elijah didn't cower away. He melted in Griswold's hold, leaning forward towards him to try to get closer to him. Griswold was the only source of comfort and love he had left, he wanted to revel in every second of the moment. And Griswold held Elijah as if his life had depended on it. In a sense, it might have. Elijah had helped him out of plenty of dangerous situations, but it was Elijah's presence that protected him the most. Before he had come around, Griswold had felt himself slipping further and further into the call of the blood. But now, Elijah grounded him. Humanized him. Now, he had a reason to cling to any last bit of humanity he had left, and most of that had come solely from Elijah.

The hunters' lips held to one another's for another moment before separating, though they didn't drift far. Griswold opened his eyes in time to see Elijah with his still shut, lips still parted ever so slightly as if ready to receive Griswold's again. A moment later, Elijah's eyes opened. He examined Griswold's face slowly before a smile spread across his lips. Griswold couldn't help but smile back. How could he not?

The air was tense in the seconds following the kiss. Griswold watched and waited to see if Elijah would grace him with his voice once again, but that never came to be. Instead, Elijah leaned in again for another kiss that Griswold was more than happy to offer.

The second kiss was noticeably more comfortable. Elijah's nerves had settled somewhat, though the bouncing of his leg said otherwise. His hands, so used to fidgeting and signing, busied themselves by playing with Griswold's hair, passing the strands slowly between his fingers. He curled those strands around his fingers repeatedly before Elijah found himself tangled in Griswold. He couldn't have cared less, taking the moment to press himself closer. He wanted nothing more than to, quite literally, melt himself into Griswold. To meld himself so close he wouldn't be able to be forced away from him by any kind of cosmic force. For a moment, his mind drifted to more hopeful thoughts. Of the possibility of finding Griswold when the hunt was over, to make something out of this short, tender moment between them. His heart ached at the thought.

The feeling of Elijah's touch was bliss. Griswold willingly fell into Elijah's warmth, reveling in the softness, the tenderness of his fingers, of his lips. He let himself indulge in Elijah, his own hands moving to embrace the tinier hunter in a way that expressed the same longing. He held gently to the small of Elijah's back, cradling him close, almost afraid to hurt him. For once, he had found peace amidst the violence. He found joy among the pain, the despair. Griswold knew the moment wouldn't last forever but he intended to live in the moment for as long as time allowed.

Breaking away was the hardest part but the two desperately needed the air. Moon-scented breaths filled the small space between the hunters' lips as they took the moment to regard one another. Griswold took that moment to read Elijah's eyes. He found yearning, but hesitation. He looked as if there were words lingering on his glistening lips, words that Griswold knew would never be spoken willingly. Elijah had done enough talking for one night.

"What is it?" Griswold's forehead pressed forward and rested tenderly against Elijah's. He didn't expect an answer, so he continued. "You need something."

Elijah pursed his lips and looked Griswold's face over. The yearning in his eyes only deepened, bursting into desire. The answer came when Elijah's hands finally freed themselves from Griswold's dark tresses and moved to linger over his chest. Elijah held his hands there, hesitant, before finally withdrawing them close to his own chest. He wrung his hands slowly and Griswold noticed the jumping of Elijah's leg had returned. Elijah turned his eyes away quickly but turned up again when Griswold took his wrists and guided his hands back to where they wanted to be: pressed against his chest. Elijah's fingers curled into the thick leather of his coat and his eyes stayed glued on Griswold's. He needn't say a single word, Griswold finding himself bending to an unspoken command as he shifted their positions. Slowly, he laid Elijah back against the cold stone of the stairs' landing. Griswold pulled Elijah's legs up around his waist as he saddled up between his thighs, the warmth of his body a stark contrast to the cool night air.

Elijah was pristine lying against the immaculate stonework of the cathedral landing, his hair splayed out around his head. Griswold stared down at him, catching himself lost in the swirling emotions of the silent hunter's eyes as he mindlessly slid his hands up the thick cloth of Elijah's pants, stopping at the waistband. His fingers traced the intricate lacing that held them tight around Elijah's small hips before he pulled the strings free. Meanwhile, Elijah held Griswold's eyes with his own, the hesitance that once resided there replaced with a fiery lust. He carefully watched Griswold's face as his more talkative companion pulled away layer after layer of clothing, leaving him with his pants and drawers around his knees and Griswold having situated himself in the space between after a series of rather embarrassing gymnastics. Elijah stifled his laugh as he watched but the silliness was quickly forgotten when he felt Griswold's hand around his shaft, willing him to full hardness with a few gentle motions.

The soft sighs that Elijah let out were almost musical. Griswold listened closely as his thumb slid across the head of his cock, rubbing it against the slit gently and wiping away the pearl of fluid that had started to form there. He watched Elijah's eyes drift away from his own to address the attention he was receiving and made sure to give him plenty to watch. He started gently, softly teasing Elijah with his fingers to compensate for the lack of oil to reduce the friction, but with a generous amount of spit, his hand glided effortlessly along the length of Elijah's cock, drawing low moans from him. Griswold was pleasantly surprised, he had thought for a moment that Elijah would be silent, but the sound of his voice roused Griswold more than he would have liked to admit. He could feel his own erection starting to push eagerly against his pants, almost begging for attention.

It didn't go unnoticed. Elijah reached down to show Griswold his fair share of affection, pushing past his long coat to find the tent in his pants. Elijah's strokes weren't as focused as Griswold's, his mind very much preoccupied by the pleasure he was feeling, but Griswold was thankful for any kind of attention. In response, Griswold's hand reluctantly strayed from Elijah's cock and slipped just below it. His fingers prodded and teased at the puckered area beneath before he finally gave Elijah the pleasure of feeling those fingers inside of him. The whimper that escaped his lips was almost intoxicating and Griswold reveled in Elijah's little, needy noises as he took his time fingering him. 

But before long, Griswold found himself met with Elijah's flushed, panting face and longing gaze once again. Elijah was masterful with those eyes and, yet again, Griswold found himself under the spell of Elijah's stare. Without any kind of instruction spare for a single look, Griswold was unbuckling his belt and unfastening his pants, finally freeing his cock from the fabric prison it was previously confined to.

"You sure about this?" Griswold gave Elijah an uncertain glance. His silence was only mildly unnerving, he had been used to verbal consent in the past. Elijah's language was one he still needed to learn.

Elijah nodded.

The hesitation remained.

"I'm sure." Elijah's voice came out as a whisper, carried to Griswold's ears on a soft sigh.

Griswold was immediately put at ease. He took a moment to lubricate himself with as much saliva as he could spit up before he slowly eased himself into Elijah. The moan that escaped Elijah's lips was louder than either of them had expected, there was no doubt that everyone in the cathedral could hear it. Griswold didn't care, though, he longed to hear more. It's not like anyone would come to investigate, anyway.

Much to Griswold's surprise, Elijah took him in without much trouble. Regardless, he gave Elijah a moment to adjust to him before rocking his hips back and forth, earning himself more of Elijah's small, pleasured noises. Griswold leaned over Elijah, cementing his hands on either side of the smaller hunter's head to steady himself as he pushed himself in deep. He watched Elijah's eyes flutter, almost rolling back, as his legs tightened around his waist to keep him close. Lustful pants left his lips with every thrust and Griswold had to decide whether or not he wanted to kiss Elijah or let him keep filling the quiet night with his voice. Elijah eventually made the decision for him, reaching up and guiding Griswold's head down so their lips met in a kiss that was equal parts sloppy and tender.

Elijah threw his arms around Griswold, his hands clinging to the tough leather of his coat and the various belts strapped across his body as Griswold pushed his hips forward at a slow, steady pace. With each thrust, Elijah let out pants and whines that were muffled into Griswold's mouth. Griswold took complete control as Elijah fully submitted to him, allowing him to do what he may. His lips strayed from Elijah's, finding more interest in the soft skin of his neck as he ravaged it with kisses and bites, leaving behind marks that would certainly last longer than a night's romp. As the pace of Griswold's hips quickened, the softness of their encounter was forgotten, replaced by a raging passion. Elijah squirmed beneath Griswold, his hips pushing up to meet Griswold's as his fingers dug into his clothes. Griswold took advantage of Elijah arching his back and craning his neck back, leaving behind more momentos of this moment between them. His bites became rougher, breaking skin and leaving small pearls of scarlet against Elijah's fair skin. His blood was sweet against Griswold's lips and the taste only encouraged his almost beastly behaviour, drawing out louder moans and cries from Elijah. Griswold's voice mingled with Elijah's, his heavy panting and grunting ringing out in the night.

Elijah felt himself riding along the cusp of orgasm as Griswold pounded his hips down against his. With each thrust, he felt the knot in his stomach coil tighter, edging him closer and closer to that final wave of pleasure. Elijah bit his lip, momentarily stifling himself, as he tried to hold back his climax for as long as he could. Griswold made it hard, relentlessly hitting the right spot with every thrust of his hips. When the moment came, his eyes met Griswold's and he watched as Elijah held his gaze for one brief moment before his eyes rolled back. A sharp shudder rocketed through his body as Elijah moaned his name at the peak of his orgasm, his body growing rigid and tight as Griswold carried on, his own orgasm almost rolling in on the heels of Elijah's. In the heat of the moment, Griswold let Elijah's name escape his lips in a low growl as he came, Elijah responding in a shaky whimper as he felt Griswold fill him with his warmth.

The two hunters shuddered and shook from their passionate lovemaking, taking a moment to recuperate before finally separating from one another. Griswold did what he could to help clean Elijah up, offering up the handkerchief he had tucked away in one of his many pockets. He watched as Elijah laid, spent, panting, on the landing before chucking to himself and taking a moment to get Elijah's clothes back as they should be. Another few moments and it looked as if nothing had happened between them. Aside from the stains that would inevitably bloom on Elijah's undershirt.

When all was said and done, Griswold helped Elijah back up before pulling him into a comfortable position in his lap. Elijah was grateful, his head falling heavily to rest on Griswold's sturdy shoulder.

"I hope that was what you were asking for." Griswold was only half joking, but considering Elijah never stopped him, he figured all was well.

Elijah simply gave Griswold a curt nod and hid his face deep in the leathers of his coat, suddenly embarrassed. Griswold held him closer, his arms tight and protective around him.

"I wish we could stay like this forever…" At this point, Griswold was mostly speaking to himself. He stroked a hand over the small of Elijah's back comfortingly as the other hunter just nodded again, more solemnly this time.

Silence settled over the two as Griswold lost himself in his thoughts. Mostly, thoughts of Elijah. Thoughts of what would become of him after this ages-long night. Thoughts on what would become of  _ them _ when all was said and done. Griswold didn't want to think about it, even the notion of not seeing Elijah again dampened his spirits with anxiety and dread. He came to from his thoughts by the sound of Elijah's slow, heavy breathing. Sleepy breaths. When Griswold looked down at the man in his arms, he saw Elijah's shoulders rising and falling slowly. He was thoroughly spent.

Griswold let himself smile as he held Elijah close. A few more hours of rest never hurt anyone. Besides, they had the rest of this never-ending night ahead of them. If anything, it was more time to spend together and that was more than Griswold could ever ask for.


End file.
